


Missing You

by Silivren



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, Implied Relationships, Odin's Bad Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silivren/pseuds/Silivren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were barely reaching teenage when they were demanded to be adults. And it was all running smoothly when one night Thor never made it home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An idea that came to my mind suddenly earlier in the week and that I had to follow through.  
> AU, Thorki if you wish it to be.

It's not the first time they've heard their parents arguing, but somehow it feels like this is a lot worse. Thor has never heard his mother shout so loud, or his father, but from where he and his brother are, curled up together on his bed, the sounds are muffled, and they can convince themselves that it's just the same as the other arguments. When the door slams, they tell themselves softly that it's just like when he walked out last time, and that he'll be along some time.

This time though it's Odin that comes up the stairs and knocks on their door, and when he opens it to see them cuddled together he doesn't even raise an eyebrow. Instead he just sinks down next to them and pulls them close, placing a kiss on first Loki's, then Thor's foreheads and tells them he loves them.

Loki looks up at Odin, smoothing a hand across his cheek, his face a question mark.

"Your mother has...has left us," he explains, swallowing hard. "You probably heard us arguing before - it was because she was-"

He can't finish the sentence, but Thor can, in his head. He knew his mother was cheating, because he could see that faraway look in her eyes that she would get when she used to look at his father, but this was about someone else. He knew it was. It died whenever Odin came into the room.

Loki is only eleven, but he's shrewd, and Thor has never hesitated to share his opinions with his brother. It doesn't take him long to work it out.

"She's not coming back?" he asks softly, his thin, childish voice cutting the silence, and Odin smoothes his hair.

"Not this time," he says sadly, and both Thor and Loki give him a squeeze around the waist, because they can see that he's breaking inside. "But you never know," he sighs, trying to be a good parent and raise their spirits, because he should. He doesn't want to burden his children at such a young age. "She might be along, some time."

It's a well used family phrase - they've never been especially careful, the four of them, and they all know that if someone goes out for longer than planned, that they'll be along soon enough. This time Frigga won't come back though. She's thrown herself out, or rather, she's chosen to leave, but she's announced her departure as violently as possible in the process.

The three of them stay there long into the night, curled up close to one another. The comfort is feeble, but it's the best they can do, and once Odin has fallen asleep on the bed the two of them make a promise that they will do whatever they can to make it easier for their father, and to make life go on.

.

They divide the chores between them, and soon enough Thor becomes a reasonable cook; Loki learns how to operate all the cleaning equipment and is soon running the house, as best as an eleven-year-old boy can do. Thor takes over managing the bills, the shopping and the money, and his maths grades soar as a result, until they rival even Loki's.

Odin declines pretty quickly after that, spiralling further down into a mess of alcohol until his children don't recognise him anymore. He drinks more than his weight in beer and spirits every fortnight, and it makes him dangerous. Mostly it's arguing, but both Thor and Loki have been hit several times when they got on the wrong side of a rage.

The pair of them press on with things though, supporting one another, and they manage to work out a suitable system to survive for two and a half years. Odin's job pays them little, but by the time Loki turns fourteen Thor has devised a system that is nearly foolproof, and makes plenty of allowance for their father's drinking habits, which they know will not change. Loki knows exactly how to manage the cleaning to make sure the house is liveable in, but he knows where they live is far from perfect. When they were younger, their friends Sif and Fandral would come over frequently for afternoons and sleepovers. One thing both Thor and Loki miss is the ability to have friends round.

.

It's a Friday afternoon, and Thor and Loki have promised one another that this weekend they will clean the entire ground floor, even if they have to take Monday off to do it. The initial problem is the magnitude of the task - just the living room alone is a tip, and they have to wade through piles of cans and boxes to even reach the sofa. They both know it's a mess, but recently Odin has been drinking more and more, and just dealing with him is enough to stop them from doing their daily work.

Odin has got in, and has trudged his way up the stairs so he's out the way as the pair of them begin to face the living room.

"We can't really do anything in here until we move the big rubbish," Loki says, looking for a bin. Thor nods and looks at the cans strewn across the floor, rolling his eyes. Loki finds one and together they begin to sort the litter, Thor taking recycling, Loki taking the rest.

"Do you want to get dinner?" Thor asks, taking one container full of empty beer cans out to the utility room.

"Is there anything to eat?"

"I'll look," Thor calls, emptying his box into the recycling bin. He searches the kitchen cupboards for something edible, and alights on a box of minestrone cup-a-soups and some bread. He calls out what there is and Loki agrees, so Thor puts on some toast and boils the kettle. He fetches two mugs and fills them with the powder, getting the margarine out the fridge. When Loki comes through with his first load, the kettle pings and Thor pours out the soups, stirring them carefully in the way Loki likes it. His brother rinses his hands and takes the steaming cup, sipping at it while Thor butters the toast.

"How much more?"

"We're halfway." It shames Loki to admit just how much litter was on the floor of their living room, but they both understand it. They live with Odin, and he is the priority. Mess just comes with the job.

Thor carries the plate of toast into the living room and is surprised to find a free space to set it down. He takes a piece and begins to work on the next load, finding cans stuffed in drawers and behind the sofa, places he didn't think it was possible.

"Do you think the lair will be anything like this?" he asks Loki. The lair is what used to be the study, but now Odin has taken it over as his solace room. If he's not in his bedroom, he's shut in the lair in the dark. The brothers rarely go in there, probably out of a combination of respect for Odin's privacy, and out of fear of what they'll find.

"It'll be worse," comes the matter-of-fact response. Loki's seen what that room is like when they don't go in it for even just a week. They've left it a month now.

By the time the floor is cleared it's eleven at night, and the pair of them flop down together on the sofa. Thor pulls Loki up close to his chest and ruffles his hair, wrapping his arms around his brother tightly. Loki is already falling asleep, so Thor doesn't hesitate to make him comfortable against the side of the settee and covers them with his hoodie as a blanket. They're both gone almost straight away.

.

In the morning, Loki is grumpy and stiff from sleeping the whole night on the sofa, with Thor as a pillow. He disentangles himself from his brother's arms and stretches, groaning internally at the thought of what they have to do that day. There are better ways to spend a Saturday than cleaning, but both brothers know by now that jobs have to be done, and that complaining is useless.

Thor climbs off the sofa shortly afterwards, immediately searching for his brother in the kitchen. Loki is making cereal and more toast, which is a staple to their diets these days. Toast with everything, because they can always afford the bread, unlike a lot of other things.

"I feel like such a tramp," Loki says as he potters around, checking the milk and looking for a nonexistent alternative to Rice Krispies. "But I guess it's not worth getting changed if we're working all day."

Thor hums in agreement and unzips his hoodie. He doesn't like sleeping in his clothes either, but Loki has a fair point. They eat in silence, and then Loki goes to get the hoover while Thor washes up. He starts to work on the floor of the front room, listening to the sound of crumbs and bits of debris get sucked up the tube.

"I think everything in here needs a proper clean. As in, it needs to be sterilised. Why can't we see the mould yet?" Thor jokes as he dances around Loki's hoovering action. He climbs up onto the bay window ledge and pulls down the curtains, bundling them up in his arms. He chucks them out the room and then takes all the cushions off the sofa and strips them of their cases, leaving everything in the hallway so Loki can vacuum up the crumbs in the crevasses of the settee. He puts it all in the washing machine and then moves all the ornaments, which aren't particularly abundant, out to be cleaned.

As he works, Loki looks down at the carpet, which used to be an attractive sea-green. He thinks about the adverts he's seen, where people have carpet steamers that remove the stains. Perhaps they just need a new carpet.

Thor cleans each little trinket carefully, and then damp-dusts the cabinets. By the time he's done, Loki has finished too and the room looks amazing, despite the missing cushions and furniture. He pats Loki on the back and fetches some pasta pots from the fridge for lunch. The machine is finished and the load is out, drying in the sun.

The front door opens, and Odin comes in. They hear the door of the lair shut. Loki groans.

"That's one room we won't be sorting today, then," he says, closing his eyes.

"I could try to move him?" Thor suggests, but is met with a dark look.

"He'll hit you," Loki says bluntly, and Thor doesn't doubt it. Instead he brings in the already dry washing and together they put it back where it should be, fluffing up the cushions and altogether the room looks as if it was brand new. Almost.

Since the lair is occupied, they move on to the downstairs bathroom. It's not as bad, but it still needs a thorough clean, and that is the rest of the afternoon gone. They scrape some dinner, and surprisingly Odin comes in to talk to them. He takes a beer out the fridge and downs it straight away, tossing the can in the overflowing bin next to the freezer. Thor bends to pick it up and put it in the recycling, emphasising his actions in the futile hope their father will learn.

"Sorry," Odin says meekly. Both brothers look up. Their father smiles, a warm, genuine smile that they can't help returning, and secretly Loki is glad that this is one of those times that Odin has drunk himself past being angry or sad, and into kindness. He shuffles back to his lair quietly, and the brothers follow, still grinning like imps at one another.

"How are you, my boys?" Odin asks, patting the seats either side of him and then slinging an arm around each of his sons' shoulders when they sit down.

"Loki and I are cleaning the ground floor," Thor explains, hoping that if Odin knows he will assist them in some way, even if it's just staying out of the room when they're working. Their father nods, smiling again.

"You're too good for me, your dad," he says, ruffling both their hair. "I should do more for you, I know."

"It's fine, dad, really," Loki lies quickly, not wanting to ruin Odin's good mood with guilt. "Thor and I are coping really well." Odin looks vacant, but nods slowly and squeezes them both.

Thor is plunged into memories as they sit there, cuddled up like a normal family, almost. The room stinks of alcohol, and it makes him think back to the time he and Loki had got drunk on Odin's beer supply when they were eleven and twelve. They had both sat there on the floor, waiting for their mother to catch them, giggling and rolling about like babies.

He would give anything to see Loki smile like that again.

Thor loves his brother dearly, almost too dearly, and they have been brought almost unhealthily close through their experience. His friends wonder why they never fight like normal brothers, and it's true they have their quarrels, but if they ever fell out seriously they both know it would be the end.

Odin falls asleep with his arms still around them, and Thor sees Loki give a tired smile. They're both too old for their fourteen and fifteen years, too worn by time and life already, but they both know it will not change. Loki hooks his arms under Odin's knees and Thor takes his shoulders, and they carry their father up the stairs into his bedroom.

"You should go to bed," Thor says softly, stroking Loki's cheek as he yawns.

"We have things to do," he replies tiredly, but Thor shakes his head.

"Go. I'll look after it."

Loki is too tired to argue, so he totters off to his room and shuts the door, and in five minutes Thor can hear silence that means he's gone to sleep. He pads down the stairs and begins to prepare the lair, staying up for another two hours removing the large rubbish. He counts nearly two hundred cans in the room alone. It's a miracle there's enough beer in the world, but it's more of a godsend that his father isn't dead yet.

At one in the morning Thor makes it into his bed, where he crashes and is asleep in an instant.


	2. Chapter 2

Thor wakes up to the sound of the hoover going, and jumps up with a start. His alarm clock shows it’s 9:30, and he’s overslept by an hour and a half. He bolts down the stairs two at a time and bursts into the kitchen, but Loki’s not there. The sound is coming from the lair, so Thor goes in there, apologies flying from his lips.

“Loki, I’m so sorry, I overslept, and I forgot to set the alarm last night and-” But Loki cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“It’s fine, really. Gives me a chance to get the hoover in here undisturbed,” he says gently, laughing at his brother’s mildly dishevelled state. “Go get some breakfast, and if you want to help, check on what dad’s doing.” He returns to his work, so Thor goes into the adjacent room to make himself some more toast, too tired to be more creative. When he’s finished he goes back to the lair and strips both sofas of their covers and shoves them in the washing machine in an attempt to clean them. He sticks some more toast on a plate and carries up the stairs to his father’s room. Odin is sprawled out on the bed in the same place they left him the night before, snoring softly.

“Dad?” Thor says as he knocks on the door, doubting it will wake Odin up. He puts the tray on the bedside cabinet, cleaning away the three cans that are there with a gentle sigh. They once tried to stop Odin from drinking in his room. It didn’t last for long.

He looks into the en-suite and is glad Loki sent him up to feed their father - his brother would probably throw a small fit if he saw the state of that bathroom. Still, Odin’s room is the once place they completely respect as his own, and they only ever go in when they have to. Sometimes he will make an effort to clean up, but it usually results in him needing his sons to help, and while they do their best, it is something that’s impossible to tackle. Trying to tidy Odin’s room is like trying to ask him to give up drinking.

Thor heads back down the stairs with the rubbish and throws it out, emptying the washing machine and hanging the cushion covers out to dry. Loki’s finished the hoovering by then, and he’s cleaning the ornaments. Thor comes in to find him carefully dusting a picture of the four of them from when Loki was six and he was eight, when they’d gone on a trip to Marwell Zoo, back when they were still a family. It makes Thor’s heart constrict.

Loki looks up at the clock. “I suppose we better tackle the kitchen,” he says, putting the photo back where it came from with care. Thor agrees and goes through, rummaging through the cupboards for the Flash and the bleach. The hob is a mess of dried spills, crusting in a coat of orange and brown spatters from at least a week of careless cooking. Loki clears up the rubbish and puts what edible food there is away. He’s glad Monday is bin night, since with the amount of rubbish they’ve discovered lurking in and around their home the big bins need emptying.

Thor’s scrubbing away at the hob with the Flash, the scent of lavender filling the room and making them both a little lightheaded. There’s some ham in the fridge so Loki makes them both sandwiches and feeds bits to Thor as he works, and gradually the white enamel of the original surface becomes visible. It takes twenty minutes, but Thor manages to do it, and then he rinses it down until the water runs clear, and finally they’ve finished the first step.

It takes the rest of the afternoon, because they do an extremely thorough job, but they finish the kitchen, and with a quick hoover of the hall the ground floor is completely clean.

“It’s almost not our house anymore,” Thor says, laughing. “It’s too clean. Quick, go get some of the rubbish and put it back, it’s making me uncomfortable.”

Loki thumps him on the arm, looking decidedly unimpressed at his brother’s antics, but slowly he smiles back. It’s a tired smile, and it makes the shadows under his eyes stand out a little too much, but it’s genuine, and it makes Thor feel warm inside. They go to sit in the living room, being careful about how they sit so as not to ruin their handiwork from the day before. Loki reclines back against Thor, closing his eyes. They’re both exhausted, and it’s not surprising considering the work they’ve done.

“Do you want to take Monday off?” Thor asks, squeezing Loki’s fingers.

“It would be nice,” Loki responds sleepily, squeezing back. He knows they shouldn’t skip school, but considering how exhausted they are they could do with the break. The entire weekend has passed and they haven’t even started on their homework yet.

“OK. I’ll phone us in sick in the morning, say we both caught some stomach thing.” Thor runs a hand through Loki’s rapidly lengthening hair. “You should cut this,” he says. Loki hums quietly.

“I kind of like it.”

“Do you actually though, or do you do it because dad wouldn’t like it if he could see straight?”

Loki sticks his tongue out but doesn’t respond, pulling Thor’s hand away from his hair instead. “How much homework do you have?” He wants to take a bit of a break, for once. They both deserve it. But Thor is in the year above now, and he’s nearing the end of his GCSEs, so he has a lot of work to do.

Thor knows his brother inside out though, and he can see what Loki’s asking. “Enough to fill the morning, but not much more. But we need to do the shop. It’s not much of an outing, but it’s the best I can do this weekend.” Loki nods, but he’s still a little disappointed. How long have their lives been ruled by chores? He can’t remember, but he knows there’s no use being ungrateful. Thor is doing his best, and Loki can’t ask for any more.

“I’m going to give dad some more food,” Loki says, sitting up and stretching. “And then I’m turning in.” He goes into the kitchen and makes a couple of sandwiches and a cup of tea, putting it on a tray and carrying it up the stairs. Thor stays on the sofa for a few moments more, watching his brother leave with a slightly sad expression on his face before getting up himself. He sluggishly pulls on his pyjamas in his room and cleans his teeth, popping by his dad’s room to say goodnight. Odin is chewing on the food Loki brought him and smiles in response, but it’s soon replaced by a grimace as his headache surges again.

Loki goes to his brother’s room once he’s ready for bed and stands in the doorway. “Night,” he says softly, and Thor opens his eyes from where he was dozing with the light on.

“Night,” Thor replies, and he flicks the switch off. Loki steps forward into the room and rests a hand on Thor’s shoulder. It’s not often Thor beats him to bed, but when he does it reminds Loki of just how vulnerable his brother still is. It’s just short of three years until he becomes an adult. They’ve been going for two and a half together now, keeping each other and their father up with just their bare hands, but often Loki wonders how long Thor will cope with this. He smoothes a thumb across a shadow beneath his brother’s eye and smiles sadly through the dim light.

Loki has never hesitated to show his feelings, and there have been plenty of occasions in the past when he’s run away, or thrown a tantrum because he’s frustrated that their father can do nothing and he almost blames himself for Frigga’s leaving. And through it all Thor was there for him, holding him when he cried, scouring the streets in the small hours to look for him, and taking his blows without complaining once. Loki wonders where he puts it all, his hurt and his upset, but he never finds out. He wants to help Thor, but that is one part of his brother he knows he will never find, and it frightens him.

“Night,” Loki whispers again, kissing Thor’s brow and shutting the door. He climbs into his own bed and hums himself to sleep, thinking about everything except the tear he’d seen crawling its way down Thor’s cheek.

*

In the morning, Odin goes to work on time for once. Loki wakes up and the first thing he does is check on Thor, but his brother is already awake and making his way to the shower. Loki goes downstairs instead to make breakfast, deciding to slap together some pancakes with what he can find in the fridge for a change.

“Mmm, they look good,” a voice says from behind his ear, and he feels arms go around his shoulders.

“Thanks. They probably won’t taste that great - there wasn’t much to work with.” Loki rests his cheek against Thor’s and closes his eyes.

“It’s not toast, so I’m sure it’ll be great.” Thor suddenly grabs the pan when it starts hissing and pulls it out Loki’s hand so he can toss it, catching it again and grinning. Loki narrows his eyes.

“That was my job! Usurper!” He hits Thor with the spatula but laughs any way, dishing the pancake up and handing it to his brother. “ _Your_ task is to find something to put on it.”

Thor begins to rummage through the recently tided cupboards for something to eat as a topping and finds the dregs of a pot of Nutella, some sugar and some jam. He’s hoping for multiple pancakes, so he starts off with jam, smearing it on thick and rolling the pancake up to cram it in his mouth. Loki cooks himself one, turning around to roll his eyes at Thor stuffing his face. “At least try to start the day being civilised, please,” he chides, finishing off cooking his own pancake and putting it on a plate. He pulls a face at the thought of jam and instead sprinkles some sugar lightly on his meal, cutting it up with a knife and fork.

“Being civilised is for the idle,” Thor responds, hastily cooking himself a second. They finish by eating three each plus one shared, and both brothers are impressed by how much they got out of so little mixture. Thor straight away afterwards goes to the front room to do his homework, not emerging for three hours except for a couple of biscuits and a cup of tea. Loki also does his work, but he’s more restless, and it takes him much longer to do less.

They break for lunch, and then Thor decides it’s time to go shopping. He’s phoned the school in the morning, so they’re free for the rest of the day without having to worry about anything. At the supermarket they dash around as fast as possible, looking for all the bargains - Odin’s meagre income only goes so far, and neither Thor nor Loki have managed to get a Saturday job yet. A little girl stands in the chocolate aisle pestering her mother for an enormous bar of Galaxy, and the poor woman is nodding and putting it in the trolley. Loki watches with a combination of envy and disgust. He remembers doing the same to his mother, but she’d always refused. Now branded chocolate is something they have to avoid unless it’s on offer.

At the checkout, Thor is glad he looks older than fifteen, because if he couldn’t pay with Odin’s credit card they’d have a lot of problems. He enters his father’s PIN in quickly, and then he and Loki carry the shopping home as best they can between them.

That evening they eat dinner as a family, and Odin joins them for once. He’s been drinking, but he’s not overly reactive. Thor has made spaghetti carbonara, which is one of their father’s favourites. This time Odin remembers to put his can in the bin, which makes Loki smile, but when Thor goes to thank him he raises an arm and glares, and Loki sees Thor visibly recoil.

Odin shuts himself in the lair straight away after dinner. Neither brother goes to disturb him, not when he’s clearly in such a bad mood. Instead they go to the living room to watch TV and relax. Thor flicks through the channels, eventually alighting on 24 Hours in A & E, just to annoy Loki, until his younger brother grapples him for the remote and they end up on QI. They watch two hour-long episodes on Dave before they get bored, when suddenly Thor stands up.

“I’ve just remembered, I’ve got to go get something I forgot from this morning,” he says, looking around for Odin’s wallet and his keys.

“What?” Loki asks, sitting up straight.

 “Just...something...” Thor’s voice says, drifting in from the hallway as he fishes a tenner from his father’s wallet. “I’ll be ten minutes, I promise.” He shoves his keys in his hoodie pocket and opens the front door.

“Bye then!” Loki calls, frowning. He can’t think of anything Thor could have forgotten, but his brother obviously knows what he’s on about. Loki looks at the clock on the TV, which says 8:00pm. He changes the channel to some ridiculous romcom on Film4 and stares aimlessly at the screen, mentally criticising the terrible acting and occasionally mocking the whininess of the lead woman’s voice.

He finds himself getting surprisingly lost in the plot though, because an hour and a half passes before he realises Thor isn’t back. He looks at the clock again, thinking it was just boredom making time drag, but even on the third attempt it still reads 9:30. He feels his pulse begin to rise, and he jumps out of his seat, running into the kitchen to check he hasn’t just missed Thor’s return.

On finding his brother isn’t there, he checks the utility room, and then all of upstairs, composure leaving him with every room he finds vacant. The last one to check is the lair, which he looks in with the door open just a crack, but it’s only Odin in there and he’s pretty well passed out. For a split second Loki wants to ask his father if he’s seen Thor, but he realises it’s pointless. Odin probably can’t see anything.

Loki sits down on the sofa again in the front room, his hands wringing together in worry. He can’t stop his imagination from racing through all the possibilities of what could have happened, but he doesn’t dare to dwell on it. There’s a hollow, sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach as he pulls out his mobile and tries the only thing he can think of - calling Thor. His fingers shake, and it takes him three tries to hit the speed dial number for long enough to set it calling Thor. There is an agonising moment when it doesn’t connect, but then the ringing starts and Loki breathes out a sigh.

It doesn’t last. The phone slips from his hand when he hears the sound of Thor’s ringtone coming from up the stairs, muffled by the distance. Without thinking Loki bolts up the stairs two at a time and bursts into Thor’s room, half expecting to see his brother magically reappeared there, but there’s nothing except his phone singing out the tune to Mission Impossible on the bedside table. Loki has to pinch the edge of the bed for support and the world tilts sickeningly.

_He’s gone._

Loki swallows, picking up Thor’s phone with a feeling that his body isn’t his own. He can’t describe the way it hurts. _Thor’s gone. Maybe he left, like she did._ It’s his worst fear, to lose his brother, because without Thor he can’t go on.

*

Loki’s out the door ten minutes after he saw the phone, not bothering to tell his father where he’s going, and sprinting to the Co-op. He feels like he’s in a dream, like he’s running through treacle and he won’t manage to get there before time stops, but he does. He dashes around the aisles like lightning, hoping that maybe Thor’s just delayed, but there’s no sign of his brother.

Brenda, the lady that works behind the counter most evenings, smiles at him when he arrives, but frowns when she sees him running around.

“Loki? Is something the matter?” Her concern is genuine - she’s very familiar with both of them, since they visit the Co-op almost every day, and when she heard about Frigga’s departure she offered to help them with the basics for the first few weeks.

“Have you seen Thor?” Loki pants, resting his hands against the counter and looking at her with wild eyes.

“No, love, is something the matter?” She lifts the divide and invites him behind the till, letting him have her seat next to the cash box.

Loki swallows and catches his breath, running a hand through his hair over and over in an attempt to regain composure. “He...he said he was going to get something at eight,” he begins, closing his eyes for a minute as he remembers the conversation. “He didn’t come back.”

Brenda’s eyes go wide, and she rubs a hand up and down Loki’s back. “I’m sorry, love, but he never got here. I haven’t seen him since Friday. Have you called him?” In answer, Loki pulls Thor’s phone out his pocket along with his own, and she nods, looking around. One of the other members of staff, who is also reasonably familiar with Thor and Loki, comes over to the counter, her lips pressed in a hard line.

“I was walking here around eight,” she explains, looking concernedly at Loki. “I saw him walking - I was right behind him actually, only about thirty metres away.” Loki’s eyes flash open and he looks at her with a desperate expression, standing up and pressing his hands on the other side of the counter. “But when I turned the corner after him, he wasn’t there anymore.”

Loki steps back, putting a hand up to his eyes and sucking a deep breath. “OK...Is-is there any footage I could look at, CCTV of outside the shop, to see if he got close?” He’s having a hard time controlling his voice; the two women look down on him with worry. It’s not often they see Loki so unruffled.

“I can take a look...” Brenda goes to check the monitor for that time, using a remote to display it on the screen in the corner by the tobacco counter. The three of them watch in silence as the footage plays from eight o’clock on fast-forward until the time Loki arrived, quarter to ten. The tape is grainy and jerky, but it’s clear that Thor is not amongst the people that were seen outside the door of the shop that evening.

The blood has completely drained from Loki’s face by the time they reach the images from the current time. He feels faint, but also disjointed, like it’s all a dream. He expects any moment to wake up on the sofa with Thor’s arm around him and a warm chuckle in his ear. _I’m not surprised you fell asleep during that, Loki. Even I was getting sent off._

There’s nothing though, no sudden jerk back to reality, and despite his hoping he is painfully aware that this _is_ real, that his life has at last become a nightmare. He stands up shakily and thanks both women, scribbling down his number and begging them to call him if anything, _anything_ comes up, no matter what time of day or night it is. They promise to, and watch with dismay as he walks slowly home.

Loki’s hands shake when he tries to open the door, but he eventually gets it open and sags against it once he’s inside. He doesn’t know what to think. More than anything, he wishes Thor was there. His sensible, practical brother, he would know exactly what to do in this situation. And that makes it hurt all the more, because Thor _isn’t_ there, and may never be again, so now Loki is alone, and he’s frightened.

Something makes him go to the lair and open the door, though he nearly throws up when he does - the stench is overwhelming. Loki perseveres, flicking on the light but keeping it low, and he goes to sit next to where his father is slumped. Odin doesn’t really appreciate what’s happening, but he responds well enough,wrapping an arm around Loki’s shoulders when his son curls up against him and sobs quietly. The warmth of his father’s arm does little though, and Loki’s never felt so alone.

“Loki,” Odin mumbles about half an hour later, and a couple more beers down the line. “What’s wrong?”

Loki buries his face in Odin’s shoulder and doesn’t say anything, but for once his father plays the good parent, tilting Loki’s chin up and smiling softly at him. “You can tell your dad. What’s wrong?”

Loki takes a deep breath, not sure if it’s wise to tell Odin or not. Yes, he should tell his dad, even if it’s purely because Odin is Thor’s father too, but he doesn’t want to worry him. He gulps, and looks hard at Odin through starry eyes, pleading for help. His father kisses his forehead and hugs him tightly, murmuring that he can talk when he’s ready.

“Thor’s gone,” Loki says quietly. “He’s disappeared. They don’t know where he went...”

Odin frowns, not understanding. “He just went to the shop, surely?”

Loki pauses. It’s things like that that make him wonder how much his father actually pays attention. “Yes, but he never got to the shop. He’s missing. Dad, he might never come back.” He tries to explain, but it’s nigh on hopeless. Odin probably won’t even remember they had a conversation in the morning.

“Oh Loki,” Odin says, smoothing his son’s black hair down and resting his head against his neck. “I’m sure he’ll be along, some time.”

But this time, Loki can’t believe it.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s Tuesday, midday, and Loki is sitting alone in the lunch hall of his school. He’s clutching a cup of hot chocolate and staring into space, the same thoughts swimming round and round in his mind and all the while he feels like he’s slipping deeper and deeper into the blackness. He stayed up long into the night, waiting for Thor to come home, or when that got too much, just for one of the ladies at the Co-op to text him with the news that they’d missed something on the tapes, or that Thor had just got sidetracked round the corner and would be returning in the morning. He fell asleep, exhausted, at four in the morning, the alarm going off at six only serving to remind him of when Thor had missed his alarm on Sunday, and suddenly it all hurt again.

He feels the wavy ridges of the cup with his fingers, up and down, up and down. It takes him five minutes to notice that Sif has sat down next to him and is waving her hand in his face to get his attention. He snaps out of his reverie and looks at her, a faint smile toying at the corner of his lips as instinct makes him put on a façade.

“Loki.” Her voice is distant, like he’s underwater, and he blinks, painfully slow.

“Sif,” he says, moving his head so he can look past her shoulder and back at the wall again. His eyes feel broken, like they can’t focus on anything with too much detail, and faces are far too complex.

She sighs in frustration, messing up her hair and looking over at Fandral and Volstagg where they have sat down next to her. She’s never been a particular fan of Loki, although they’ve had their shared jokes, but she knows how dear he is to Thor and tries her best because of that. Wherever Thor is, she knows he would want her and their friends to help Loki, especially when he looks so close to breaking, so she hesitantly reaches out to take his hand and stop it crushing the cup he’s holding.

“Where were you guys yesterday?” She’s half tempted to make a joke about their History teacher missing his ‘assistant’, as Loki is known, but decides against it. Loki doesn’t look in the mood for jokes. Thinking on it, she decides Loki doesn’t look to be in the mood for anything, except his own thoughts, but she senses that even those are something he wishes to avoid.

Loki ignores her, because she doesn’t really understand what his life, what _Thor’s_ life is like on the inside, and they haven’t told anyone about it. He doesn’t want to have to explain about Odin’s drinking issues, or how he believes he will perish without Thor, and that he’s perish _ing_ now.

Sif squeezes on his hand and he looks up, narrowing his eyes slightly to focus on his face. “Loki,” she says again, and he decides to pay attention this time, since she’s obviously determined. “Where’s Thor?”

*

In all her years, Sif has never seen Loki and Thor separate. They’re joined at the hip, and it makes her envious because she can’t get on with her brother at all. She’s never known them to spend a day apart since Loki joined in Year Seven. When Thor caught flu off of her, Loki had only come in for the first couple of lessons before returning home, claiming he felt ill too, although their friends suspected it was something more to do with _Thor_ not being at school. When they were little they acted more like normal brothers, but that was a long time ago, and Sif can’t remember it properly.

She looks at Fandral again, and his mouth tightens. “I’ll try,” he whispers, and he gently directs Loki’s attention more towards himself. “Loki, where’s Thor? Is he coming in today?”

In answer, Loki favours him with an empty stare, his smile pulling the corners of his mouth up until it looks more like a grimace. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be along, some time.”

Fandral’s mouth drops open, and he and the others can only stare as Loki glides up from the seat and sweeps out the room, hands shoved deep in their pockets to hide the tremors.

*

_Thor’s hands are tied together with two black tiewraps in front of him, and a hood is put over his head. Rough hands bend him over although he fights against them, pushing back with all his might, but the strength of a fifteen-year-old boy is no match for a fully grown man. He hears the locks click shut, so there’s no use trying to escape, and gropes for his phone._

_It’s only as they turn out of the road, which Thor can tell through feeling the corners as his body sways on the back seat, not strapped in because his bound hands stop a seatbelt from working properly, that he remembers he left his phone in his room. The driver is playing some infuriating rap CD on top volume, so Thor knows even if he did cry for help no-one would hear him. The windows of the car are tinted - he saw it before they blindfolded him._

_They drive for what seems like hours, but Thor can’t tell if it’s just because he’s breathing too fast - there’s no way of measuring time other than by counting the ragged breaths he drags in and out of his lungs. He tries to shout to his kidnapper but the man clearly isn’t listening, or doesn’t care. Thor kicks against the door, the chair, anything his legs can reach and he lifts his hands to undo the hood but his bound wrists stop him getting to the knots and undoing them._

Loki, _he thinks desperately._ I have to tell Loki. I have to tell him I’m going to be late. _He screams in his head for his brother, calling his name over and over, desperate to explain. He knows how worried Loki will be if he doesn’t come home._

*

The rest of the week passes much the same, but this time Sif and her friends don’t press Loki for answers. There was something in the way he explained it that haunts them, or at least makes them sufficiently uncomfortable that they can’t ask again. Thor doesn’t turn up at school for the rest of the week.

The first night, Tuesday night, Loki doesn’t sleep. It’s some irrational part of his mind keeping him up, desperately clinging to the hope that Thor just got sidetracked and will walk through the front door any moment. He ignores his father, ignores the rubbish piling back up in the kitchen and the sitting room; he can’t bring himself to look at it, because it only serves to remind him of how he and Thor had spent the weekend together cleaning up.

When Friday comes, it is like then end of an era, even though Loki knows this new stage of his life is just beginning. There’s still a glimmer of hope inside him, hope that maybe something will turn up, although he tries his best to crush it whenever it flares up to spare his own feelings. He’s curled up on his bed again when he hears a buzzing from down the stairs. It’s funny how he manages to be able to hear his phone vibrate when it’s an entire floor away, but half the time he can’t even feel it when it’s in his pocket. He bolts down the stairs and jumps the last three steps, nearly skidding on the polished wood of the floor.

His phone is on the coffee table in the front room, buzzing and pushing an empty crisp packet off the table. He sees it’s an unrecognised number and hesitates, then picks up.

“Hello?”

“Loki? It’s Brenda, love, from the Co-op.”

Loki’s stomach flips and he can’t help bursting into a big grin. “Have you found something?” he asks excitedly, hope bubbling up into a surge.

Brenda pauses, hearing his excitement, and bites her lip. “No, that’s why I’m calling. Nothing’s come up yet.” She holds her breath, waiting for Loki to respond, already hearing his disappointed tone. Nothing comes from the other end except breathing, so she speaks again to break the tension. “I think it’s time you told someone about this.”

“N-nothing?” Loki says quietly, barely using his voice at all. It’s more just a movement of air as he exhales, and Brenda has a hard time understanding it.

“I’ve checked the tapes again, for the whole of Monday, and I’ve waited to see if he turns up at all, but he hasn’t. I’m really sorry.”

“No, it’s OK,” Loki whispers again, feeling like he’s standing in a bottomless pit. “Th-thank you for helping me with this.” He puts the phone down on the table on speaker, sinking into the sofa and cupping his hands over his mouth and nose.

“Loki, I think you need to contact the police about this now. If an authority’s involved something may turn up. This is out of our hands now.”

Loki nods even though she can’t see it, sighing audibly. “OK...OK, I’ll see what I can do.” He doesn’t want to go to the police, partly because he still has a little shred of hope left that Thor will come back of their own accord, and partly because he’s worried they will want to investigate his house, and then they’ll see the rubbish, and they’ll see his father, and they’ll see him...

“Do you want me to come with you when you do?” Brenda asks, because she can tell Loki doesn’t want to do it, but she knows it’s important. Loki’s wellbeing has become a concern of hers over the years, and Thor’s, ever since their mother disappeared thirty months ago.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll go tomorrow after dad’s got up. But thanks for offering.”

“All right. Call me if you need anything. Bye.” Brenda waits for Loki to reply, then hangs up. She wonders if he will actually go to the police. She wonders if he will actually be all right.

Loki closes his eyes and swallows. He feels his pulse resounding in his head and the world is tilting even though his eyes aren’t open to see it. He tastes bile, and decides to make a drink, shuffling to the kitchen and passing his father in the lair on the way. He boils the kettle and makes himself a cup of tea, then one for his father, bringing it into the lair and setting it down on the coffee table. Odin looks up at him in surprise, but takes the drink and nurses it, a change from the permanent tang of alcohol inside his mouth.

“Thor’s still not back,” Loki says flatly, not expecting a reaction from his father, but Odin actually responds.

“I know,” he says quietly squeezing Loki’s shoulder. “I know.”

Loki nods, sipping his tea and looking into the distance. “I’m going to the police tomorrow.”

Odin hums in acknowledgement, hand still resting on Loki’s shoulder. It’s a fragile comfort, but it’s the best they will both get and they cling to it with desperation. Loki wishes his relationship with his father hasn’t deteriorated so much that they couldn’t console in one another, but the drink has driven Odin away from everything except himself.

They stay together for a long time, absorbing one another’s warmth and doing what they can to help each other. Loki eventually crawls up the stairs and into his bed without even brushing his teeth, and he is asleep in moments, tossing about under the sheets as the nightmares close in.


	4. Chapter 4

On Saturday morning Loki gets up early and dresses in the cleanest, tidiest clothes he can find without making it look forced. He checks on his father, who is also awake, and eats some breakfast with him in the master bedroom. He can’t help but feel nervous, butterflies swarming around in his stomach forming shapes and patterns repeatedly, hammering at the edges and making him feel sick.

He says goodbye to his father, grabs his keys and wallet and then leaves the house, walking to the police station. Thoughts swirl round and round in his mind, things he wants to say, things he needs to say. He’s never had to do anything like this before, but he’s thought about it. He knows they both have, but never concerning each other. The worry was always that Odin would go out and get himself into trouble, and they would have to go and pick him up.

Loki’s pace is fast, and he turns heads as he storms through the rain towards the station. He barges past one woman, who gives a disgruntled, “Hey!” as he knocks into her, but he ignores it. Loki is too busy convincing himself to follow this through to care.

He arrives at the station and opens the door - it’s made of glass and fits with the transparent windows of the reception of the station. Loki can’t help but think how much it looks like a cage, or a tank. Passers-by can stop and look in to see the show as someone is arrested or makes an enquiry. He has never been a fan of being watched, and Loki shudders when he thinks people might see him talking to the police, watching him and silently judging.

A young man is sitting at the desk, and he looks up at the sound of Loki’s footsteps. His smile is distant and false, an expression well practised from years of putting up with society’s most difficult members. Loki smiles back, and his is just as unreal but for entirely different reasons. He’s not sure how to broach the subject he’s here for, so he goes for being blunt.

“I need to report a missing person,” he begins, swallowing. “Is there an officer or someone I can talk to?”

“Do you have an appointment?” The secretary’s question is cool and reserved, the exact sound of someone on autopilot.

“N-no, but I need to speak with someone about this.” Loki’s having a hard time keeping his composure, cursing himself for getting so close to cracking over just a simple, standard enquiry.

“There should be someone available in about twenty minutes, if you want to wait,” he says, scrolling through some kind of spreadsheet on his desktop. “I’ll call you when there’s a space.”

Loki nods gratefully and sits down on one of the battered sofas in the reception room. He takes his fill of the room, noting the shoddy paintwork and cobwebs in the corner. There are attempts to conceal the signs of wear - posters over the walls from the NHS concerning drug abuse and drink-driving safety; notices on what is socially acceptable behaviour in the waiting rooms; appointment sheets for officers and custody cells. Loki’s never been to the police station before, but he doesn’t find any of it surprising. It’s just like a dentist or a doctor’s surgery - the same awkward atmosphere in which silence isn’t mandatory but is maintained anyway, and those who break it are given condescending looks. Loki’s glad he’s alone with only the young secretary behind the desk - what would be worse than sitting here and waiting to be seen would be for someone else to be there too. He’s had experience of people attempting to make conversation with him, and usually he manages to go along with it, however awkward, but right now he doesn’t know if he can even articulate a sound.

He watches a trapped fly hurl itself at the glass window, as eager to escape as he is, and just as unlikely to. Its frustrated buzzing is the only sound other than the tapping of the secretary’s keyboard and the occasional ring of the phone - a maddening combination. Loki cracks his knuckles in anticipation, closing his eyes to calm himself down. After what seems like hours the young man coughs and announces that someone is available to see him now. He’s directed down a corridor and into a small room, where a tired, grey-haired woman is shuffling some papers on the table. She looks up and smiles at him, not quite genuinely, but with more warmth than the secretary, and Loki feels slightly more at ease.

“Hi, I’m Detective Inspector Symmonds,” she says, introducing herself and extending a hand for Loki to take. He shakes it hesitantly, then mutters an oath for making himself look weak. He has to be strong right now. “What’s your name, son?”

“Loki,” Loki says, responding to her gesture to sit down by pulling out the chair on the other side of the table and sinking into it. He clears his throat. “Loki Odinson.”

The inspector nods and starts to make notes on a piece of paper. “And what can I do for you, Loki?” He scrutinises her face for a moment, taking in the lines around her mouth and eyes. She looks like she would have a nice smile, if it were ever allowed to shine through. Her demeanour was one a person could instantly trust, but she herself seemed not to trust anyone or anything. Meticulous and neurotic, but underneath a kind heart.

Loki takes a breath, clenching his fist under the table to control his shaking hands. “I’m here to report a missing person. My brother’s gone missing.” His cheeks flame as he says it, and he realises how stupid he must sound. A station like this must see thousands of worse cases every month; an experienced officer like DI Symmonds must have worked on hundreds of missing persons cases - why should his be of any significance to her?

“All right,” DI Symmonds says, scribbling down some notes. “Can you explain to me the circumstances of his disappearance?” Her pen is poised above the paper, ready to make further notes. Loki starts by explaining how they’d gone shopping together, and then how Thor had needed to get something from the Co-op. It takes him a couple of tries to speak, because his throat clogs up halfway through some vital point, and he has to cough multiple times to restore his voice, but the inspector is patient with him, nodding in agreement and continuously making notes on what he says. At the end of the story, she sits back in her chair and smiles at him again. “Well done. I can tell that wasn’t easy for you.” She hands him a carbon copy of the notes she made, letting him read them through and confirm some of the details, before standing up.

“As you can probably guess, there’s not much I can do to help you right now, Loki.” She grimaces as she sees his expression plummet, and Loki swallows hard, nodding slowly. “I can put him on the missing persons list, and I’ll make sure we have someone following his case, but it’s unlikely anything much will turn up. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right. I know there’s only so much you can do,” Loki mutters. His response feels hollow, like he’s not in control of what he’s saying; the words are just pouring out from his lips. He watches her as she rummages through her pockets and pulls out a card.

“If anything new comes up, or if you just want to talk to someone, here’s my card.” Loki takes it and slips it into his wallet, thanking her again and turning to leave the room. DI Symmonds follows, letting him out the station and following him with her eyes as he walks down the street. She feels a pool of sympathy well up within her at the thought that a young fourteen-year-old boy has to report his brother’s disappearance. Loki mentioned his father, but didn’t go into express detail concerning his role in the family, but that their mother left a couple of years ago. Her lips pull into a tight line as she realises she is looking at another case where the children are forced to grow up prematurely because the parents can no longer be considered responsible adults.

*

_Thor is roughly dragged out the car and slung over someone’s shoulder, since any attempts his captors make to get him to walk result in him sinking to the ground and refusing to move. He’s set down on the chair in a basement and his hood is removed. His eyes stare up at the face of the man who had originally bound him, and the tiewraps are cut from his wrists. He absently rubs where there is bruising, letting the natural anaesthetics in his skin take away the pain._

_The man leaves the room and the lock clicks shut. Thor instantly jumps up and begins searching the walls for an escape route, seeing how secure the lock is, testing out the small window at ground level near the ceiling of the room. For the moment there seems to be no escape, so instead Thor takes to looking around at what’s in the room with him. A bed, which is comfy enough, a sink, a desk with pencil case and exercise books, a plate of food and a hot chocolate, and a pile of clothes in a small chest of drawers. It’s like a small bedsit but without a proper bathroom or kitchen, and Thor finds himself thinking that there are worse places to be held hostage._

_He wracks his brain and fights to remember the route they took, to see if he can work out whereabouts they are, but it’s pointless. For all he knows they could have driven round and round in circles for ages. Loki is still on Thor’s mind and he thinks desperately about how he will explain this to his brother. What if Loki thinks Thor’s abandoned him, like Frigga did? Thor can see his brother’s tired face in his mind, crumpling with confusion and sadness as he realises Thor isn’t coming back._

_“Loki,” he whispers to the walls, pressing his cheek against one of them and feeling the cool brickwork rough against his skin. “I’ll find you again, I promise. I’ll come back to you.”_

*

During the walk home Loki takes several detours in order to remain outside in the cold for as long as possible. He feels like if he lets himself freeze for a little longer then maybe he’ll feel better, maybe he’ll feel like he’s fought off the worst of this. Or maybe he’ll become numb enough not to care.

He pushes through the front door and calls out to his father that he’s home. There’s a muffled grunt from the lair, so Loki decides he’s going to have a chance to get some cleaning done. He starts by making the downstairs rooms at least presentable again, even if he can’t bring himself to do a complete clean like he did with Thor. Then he works his way upstairs and changes all the bedding except in Thor’s room, which he brings into his own and arranges on his bed. The red sheet and duvet cover clash with the pale blue walls of his room, but Loki doesn’t pay much attention to it. It’s the sentiment behind his brother’s bedding that makes Loki put it in there, not his interior decorating skills.

Once he’s finished with the washing, and it’s hanging out to dry in the sunshine which creeps through the half-closed curtains of Loki’s bedroom, he goes downstairs and pulls a pasta pot out the fridge, munching on it and letting time slip by. He knows his homework is waiting, along with a large amount of catch up from the lessons he spent daydreaming, but he’d rather not face it. Instead, he throws away his lunch and drifts out the kitchen and up the stairs again, cleaning the landing floor and the bedrooms with the hoover. It’s monotonous, tedious work, but it’s better than dreaming, better than studying. The tedium is enough to take his mind off of missing Thor for the rest of the day. He doesn’t bother to make himself dinner, instead taking some chocolate and a slice of bread up to his room and nibbling as he slides between the sheets, cuddling Thor’s duvet close and inhaling the smell. His sleep is interrupted frequently, but he manages to get enough rest to face Sunday morning relatively early.

*

Throughout Sunday Loki works and cleans, passing the time with a rigid plan of work so he can’t think too much on anything else. By Sunday evening he’s exhausted, and flops out on the sofa in the front room, flicking on the TV for something to distract him now he’s stopped. His father can be heard poking around in the fridge, probably for more beer. The first channel to come up is BBC 1, with the local news. The bulletin is relatively mundane, but it’s grabbed enough of his attention to merit a despairing sigh when he hears another politician trying to get himself out of trouble with fancy words and smooth composure. There have been times when Thor has joked that Loki would make a good politician, that he could talk himself out of anything, but Loki just laughed and pushed him away. Politics was too tedious.

It’s the next article that has him sitting bolt upright. The news reporter’s smooth voice fills the room as she calmly explains that yesterday a young man, aged fifteen, was reported missing in the Southampton area. Loki stops breathing.

_“The boy’s name is Thor Odinson, and he has been missing since Monday evening. Police are currently investigating his whereabouts after his brother informed them of his disappearance early Saturday morning. So far the case has brought up no results, but police will continue to search for Thor until they find something.”_

Loki doesn’t realise he’s been biting his lip until he tastes blood on the tip of his tongue. He can’t believe Thor’s reached the news. It’s a mixture of happiness and fear, one because it proves that DI Symmonds took him seriously, and the other because now everyone has the chance to know what happened to Thor, and soon he’ll be bombarded with questions. He doesn’t hear his father enter the room until a hand rests on his shoulder. Loki’s tuned out the majority of the news cast, instead staring at the screen in a sort of numb shock as a brief interview with DI Symmonds flashes by on the screen. Loki inhales but surprisingly can’t smell any alcohol.

“You went to the police?” Odin asks, although somewhere in the bottom of his memory he thinks he already knew this. Loki doesn’t respond, only turns his head away from the screen as the sport comes up instead and the sports presenter begins to babble on about pointless matches and who scored what. He leans his forehead against Odin’s side and closes his eyes. It’s suddenly all too much.

Odin strokes Loki’s hair and switches the channel to ITV, hoping the local news there will also show something. He holds Loki close while he watches with scrutiny, although in this programme Thor’s case is only mentioned for a ten-second article. It’s still enough to clarify what has happened, and in Odin’s sober state of mind he fully takes in everything that he’s missed over the past six days. That his eldest son has gone missing. That his youngest has been coping all alone, at the tender age of fourteen. That he’s done nothing to help either of them.

“Loki,” Odin says gently, still holding his son close. “I’m going to help you in this, all right?” He hates that he probably doesn’t sound sincere, and that Loki will think he’s just saying that because he has to. He can’t think of a way to prove it, but then suddenly the idea’s there, like a spark, and he lets it spill out of his lips.

Loki’s nodding against his father’s side, not quite believing it - it’s all just empty words, in the end. So when Odin’s deep voice rumbles through him a moment later, and the words, “I’m giving up drinking,” reach his ears, Loki lifts his head in surprise.

“I’m going to give up drinking so we can get through this,” Odin says again, decisively. And through his starry eyes Loki looks at his father, and for the first time in two and a half years, he’s proud.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there. It's not over yet.

On Monday morning Loki manages to drag himself to school. He’s still numb about seeing Thor on the news, not entirely certain what to think or feel.

_What if they ask questions?_ The paranoid part of his mind begins formulating a thousand different situations, none of them pleasant, and all of them ending up in his family’s inevitable exposure and humiliation.

As always with these things, it’s never as bad as it seems; not a single person says anything to him all morning, for which he is glad. But at lunch Sif and their other friends seek him out, urgent questions on their lips.

She explains that she was passing through the living room while her parents were watching South Today, when Thor’s face had come up on the screen. She’d frozen, watching with an intensity usually only reserved for her love of tennis and literature, as DI Symmonds talked through the case and how a full search had been set up for Thor. It had suddenly all clicked into place for her, and Sif had realised the full extent of what Loki had meant, that Tuesday when he’d given his explanation.

Loki’s face twists when he realises he’s been found - it was of course, impossible for _no-one_ to notice, but he’d hoped nonetheless. “So now you know,” he says bluntly, not looking at anything. Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun look guiltily away, not sure what to say given the situation, but deeply regretting not helping further.

“I know your mum’s been gone a while,” Sif begins, and when Loki doesn’t say anything she decides pressing on would be better than letting the silence get awkward. “And you and Thor had to do a lot together.” Loki winces at the mention of Thor’s name, and Sif bites her lip, feeling even worse. “Just...if you need anything, just text me. Whenever, whatever, just text me, OK?” The offer is on the table and Sif won’t retract it, but Loki’s unresponsiveness concerns her.

“The same goes for all of us,” Fandral adds, and the other two nod in agreement.

*

Sif comes over that evening to cook a proper meal for Loki and Odin, since they’ve both been living off pasta pots and leftovers for the past few days and she feels they ought to have a decent meal. She makes beef casserole, which both father and son appreciate more than they say, but she knows they’re grateful from the speed with which they devour everything on their plates.

So far, Odin’s drinking ban has been going well. There is still beer in the fridge, but it’s been untouched for over twenty-four hours now. He explains what he is doing to Sif and she takes the initiative to throw it out when he’s left the room.

While Sif does this, Odin sits with Loki in the lair. His son is curled against his side, fingers clinging tightly to his father’s old jumper and face buried against his shoulder to hide the wet streaks staining the dark green material. Loki hasn’t said a thing since lunch. He sets a sort of challenge to himself - if his father is giving up drinking, maybe he should give up something too, to help him cope. He thinks through all the things he holds dear enough to give up, but the only one is Thor, and his brother has already been forcefully taken away from him; the whole still gapes open, torn and bloody.

“Do you want to do something tomorrow, son?” Odin asks softly, fully intending on pulling Loki out of school now the public eye knows what’s happened to Thor. But his son gives no answer, just a strained noise from the back of his throat. Loki shakes his head, decided on what his challenge will be. He’ll give up talking, until Thor comes home, and if that means it’s for the rest of his life then so be it. It’s not worth communicating with a world cruel enough to take his nearest and dearest from him so suddenly.

*

_Over the course of a week Thor is provided with school equipment and textbooks, presumably so he can continue his school studies through self tutoring. Not that he’s ever planned to be kidnapped, but he’s seen movies, and never has the victim been treated like this. What kidnapper would see it as important for him to continue his school work whilst being held hostage? Thor can’t make sense of it, but a lot of things about this don’t make sense._

_He’s been well looked after, fed, washed, and even given some company from one of the men that took him. Thor’s tried asking questions about his books and the seemingly desperate urge of his kidnappers to keep him learning, but the response is silence._

_He bites his lip and gets on with his physics work, even though he’s always detested the subject. He might as well make use of the opportunity to feel normal again._

*

Three weeks after Thor disappeared, the news changes. Volstagg, Sif, Odin and Loki are sitting in the lair, where the TV has been moved because it’s become Loki and Odin’s main haunt now, under the excuse of it’s Odin’s room and Loki won’t stay in the front room any more. He never explains why; he’s kept to his internal promise and won’t speak a word to explain it, but the others suspect it’s because the memories haunt him. More than once Sif has had to physically fight Loki for his bedding, or rather, Thor’s, to make sure it gets washed.

It’s become a routine, to religiously watch every presentation of South Today available: at 6:30 and 10:25pm every weeknight, always hoping for further news of Thor. And it just so happens that this Monday evening something turns up.

Sif is the first to recognise the face of the police officer, DI Symmonds, and immediately calls for hush, turning up the volume. Four pairs of eyes glue themselves to the screen.

And suddenly a true silence descends on the room as everybody stops breathing. The case has made headway. They’ve found a body.

Odin is the first to react, crying out at the screen, “ _No!”_

Sif has seized Volstagg’s hand tight; there is an ominous crack as one of his knuckles clicks under the pressure. Her face is as pale as the chipped limestone fireplace to her left.

Loki’s eyes are glazed; he can’t see the screen, can’t see anything really, except the black spots dancing back and forth over his vision. It’s not a sudden pain, like you’d get from a physical blow - in a sense that would be easier to bear. What he feels is a slow, burning ache, a leeching of his strength until there’s nothing left inside him but the insatiable anguish of grief.

The detective calmly explains that the body belongs to a young man, most likely in his mid to late teens, and that DNA tests and dental records are being checked, but it is most likely to be the body of the missing teenager, Thor Odinson, who disappeared three weeks before. She tells the reporters of the situation smoothly, like a well-oiled machine that’s done this kind of thing a hundred times before, but any person with an ounce of intuition can see it’s hurting her too, to deliver this news. And wherever Brenda is, her eyes are following the story too, with a desperation for it to be a mistake and a bottomless sympathy for Loki and Odin, who are both feeling their hearts break simultaneously.

The body was found in the woods a few miles away from the Co-op, on the edge of the city. Half the police are working on confirming who the deceased is, and the other half are frantically searching for other evidence that could lead to the kidnappers and better explain the circumstances of the young man’s death. As of yet, the only thing they have to say is that he was most likely beaten to death.

The article finishes. Sif switches the TV off and finally lets go of Volstagg’s hand, turning to look at Odin and Loki and preparing to offer comfort. The father had dropped his head to his lap and is weeping quietly, his body shaking with the spasms his sobs send through him; his son hasn’t moved, but his hands are trembling and white. Sif closes her mouth - nothing she could say would help them now. But she tries anyway.

“I’m so sorry.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Thor is taken upstairs, and he would resist, but it’s not worth it. The house is nice, very nice, in fact, but he’s not interested. It’s a change from the basement, yes, but he can hardly get excited about it._

_He’s handled roughly, which is surprising considering the care he’s been given for the past three weeks. His hands have been bound again, most likely so he won’t try to do a runner whilst he’s offered the ‘privilege’ of visiting the person behind all of this._

_“She’s been very kind to you, so I suggest you’re polite,” he’s told as he’s marched down a corridor with one wall painted a deep burgundy and the other a pale, barely-off-white pink with modern sculptures set into alcoves in the walls. Thor has no intention of being polite to whoever ‘she’ is, regardless of how kind she’s been to him. A small part of him can’t help but be disappointed that despite his being kidnapped he still hasn’t got out of physics homework._

_A pair of double doors swing open and he’s taken into what must be the main reception room, but he barely spares a moment to look around because his attention has been grabbed by the woman sitting by the fireplace in a richly coloured teal dress, her blonde curls cascading over her shoulders. Thor’s intake of breath is sharp and unexpected._

_Because this woman is his mother._

*

Volstagg has to go home because his parents are adamant that he doesn’t stop revising, but Sif is allowed to stay the night, and she knows that if she doesn’t, Odin and Loki will be in pieces by the morning. With gentle, soothing words she guides them up the stairs, helping Loki get undressed because he is so broken he can barely think to move at her request. She tucks him into bed and then checks on Odin, trying to talk enough sense into him that he will keep his promise and not decline again because things have suddenly got so much worse. He is reluctant, but agrees.

“For Loki’s sake, I’ll do it.”

“That’s all I ask; thank you, Odin.” Sif sits on the side of his bed and he takes her hand, his eyes wild and frightened.

“You’re a good girl, Sif. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us.” He squeezes her hand affectionately, and manages a half smile, barely visible in the dim orange light from the outside street lamp.

“It’s all right, Odin. I know...I know Thor would have done the same for me.” Odin nods, and closes his eyes. There’s a blanket in Thor’s bed waiting for her, but when Sif gets there to go to bed herself she finds it already occupied by Loki. So instead she moves into Loki’s room and tries to get to sleep, but it’s no use. The sound of Loki’s tears echo around the thin walls of the house and no-one can ignore them for long enough to lose themselves.

*

Odin is the first one up, and straight away he goes to his son’s room, holding a fitful Loki in his arms and offering all the comfort and love he has to give. At ten o’clock Loki wakes up; Sif has already gone to school. He clings to his father, but says nothing.

“Loki, son, how about we go to the park today, get some fresh air?” Odin asks gently, smoothing a piece of hair behind Loki’s ear where it’s been moved out of place in the night. He’s answered with a shake of the head. “All right, how about the garden then?”

Loki swallows and squeezes his eyes tight shut. _Not the garden, not outside. Thor loved outside. Thor’s dead. Thor’s dead._ It’s like a bell tolling inside his mind, its clanging never ceasing for longer than a moment. _Thor’s gone._

He can’t articulate, even in his head, the level of hurt he feels at Thor’s leaving him. It’s the ultimate betrayal. They’d promised one another they were in this together. _How can he leave me like this? How can he give up, like this?_ Loki is angry, and starts to beat his fists against his father’s chest, pounding as hard as he can to drown out the resonating words from his mind: _Thor’s gone._

“Loki, let’s go get some breakfast, OK? Just a bite to eat.” Odin helps his son stand up, taking his elbow and leading him downstairs to the kitchen where he makes some toast and scrambled egg, Loki’s favourite. He eats his own food but can’t taste it, and watches Loki do the same. He wonders how long the numbness will last before they will be able to feel anything other than grief again.

*

Odin does persuade Loki to go to the park, and they spend a long time walking round and round in circles through the woodier sections. Odin holds a one-sided conversation, although Loki does nod occasionally in response to some of the things, which tells his father his words are not wasted. Sif comes back with Fandral this time, who has been fully updated on the situation, and they pile into the lair to watch the news together in case anything else has come up. As soon as the opening theme for the regional news comes up however, Loki scrambles up from the sunken sofa and hurries out the room. Sif makes to follow him, but Odin stops her.

“Give him his space. If he can’t bear to watch we won’t make him.”

There is nothing new though, only that they are still investigating and that DNA tests have properly started now a post mortem is complete. The three of them can’t hide their disappointment from one another.

At seven o’clock Loki comes back in to ask for updates, and reluctantly Fandral tells him what little they learnt that evening. Loki too is disappointed, but in a different way. He doesn’t care what the results are. It’s the uncertainty itself that hurts him, not the fear the body is actually Thor’s. He’s beyond distinguishing now.

*

Come Friday, there has been nothing dramatically new, and they are beginning to lose their faith in the police. Odin, Loki and Sif are sitting together in the lair, their eyes glued hazily to the screen as the familiar graphics swirl around and faint music fills the room, the volume turned down low so they can at least pretend to feel some distance and detachment from the news screen that rules their lives if the news is bad.

The first ten minutes is nothing, just short stories about things that everyone claims to care about but no-one can change, like politics and scandals and sport. Loki keeps his face buried against Odin’s side, not wanting to see the screen, but his ears are turned in the direction of the TV and he’s listening just as intently as the others.

The tension in the room as the three of them wait for their story is almost tangible, and Loki lifts up a hand to touch something invisible hanging in the air, something only he can sense. His fingers curl around it and pull it close - the feeling of electricity in the air that comes with excitement or fear, a feeling he used to love.

And then they hear Thor’s name, and their daydreaming ceases, attention, if not faces, turned towards the screen to hear the latest news.

_“Forensic investigations concerning the discovery of a body on the outskirts of Southampton which police believed to be connected to the case of the missing teenager, Thor Odinson, have confirmed that the body does not belong to him. It in fact belongs to someone older, a twenty-year-old man who disappeared a few days after Thor’s case was reported to the police. It is believed that this man committed suicide...”_

Sif gives an overwhelming sigh of relief, leaning forward and cupping her face in her hands as she rocks back and forth on the sofa. She looks over at Odin, her eyes starry with happiness, and gives him a genuine smile.

“Thank goodness. That means he could still be alive.”

Odin nods, wordless, tears spilling down his cheeks too, and he smiles back. He’s half tempted to dig out a bottle of champagne to celebrate, but then he realises this isn’t exactly the thing you celebrate with champagne, and also that there’s been no alcohol in the house since he made his promise to give up drinking.

It’s only as he thinks back to the moment he made that promise that he realises Loki hasn’t lifted his head from where it’s been burrowed against his father’s ribcage for the duration of the broadcast. He gently shifts position so he can lift up Loki’s chin, only to feel a strong resistance to his efforts as his son moves to hide his face again.

“Loki?” Odin asks, his happiness dissipating immediately.

Loki mumbles something, but it’s more of an amalgamation of sounds than anything else, and pulls the side of Odin’s jumper over his face, biting his lips, because somehow knowing that the body doesn’t belong to his brother is even worse. It means they’re back to square one, and all the progress that’s been made so far has just become pointless. He sucks in a breath, taking with it the familiar scent of his father, only this time it’s also unfamiliar, because the tang of alcohol he’s learnt to associate with Odin is gone. It’s amazing what a few weeks and a couple of cycles through the washing machine can do.

Sif throws Odin a guilty look, even though she’s not sure what for, and runs a hand through her hair.

“Do you want me to stay tonight? My parents should be OK with it...” She puts the offer out there, even though she doesn’t want to stay, because it’s the right thing to do. Internally, she’s angry at Loki for ruining the mood. Any normal person would be delighted to discover his brother isn’t dead. She can’t understand his upset, and she doesn’t want to stay with him for any longer than she has to, because she wants to be happy knowing Thor could still be alive.

Odin can understand it though, and the rational side of him that Frigga fell in love with all those years ago is beginning to shine through now that his mind isn’t clouded by drink. He can also see that Sif doesn’t really want to stay. He shakes his head, indicating that he can take care of this and that she should get some rest. Loki is his son, after all.

Once she’s gone home, Odin goes to the kitchen and makes a cup of tea for each of them. Loki nurses it, staring into the pale brown liquid with an empty expression, trying to drown his thoughts in that cup.

“I know it’s hard,” Odin begins, then curses himself for putting it like that. He doesn’t need to say it, and if anything it will only upset Loki more, because his conscientious young son will be fully aware that it’s just as hard for Odin as it is for him, and hearing his father play the hero is too painful to endure.

“I can see why you’re upset, Loki,” he tries again, going for the empathetic approach. “To be dragged back to the start, having to begin it all again. In a way it might have been easier if it had been him. It would have least been an end to this madness.” He grips Loki’s hand tight, squeezing it and feeling a slight pressure in return - understanding. Odin hopes one day Loki will speak again, and so at each conversation he holds he tries to phrase things in such a way that the response can’t simply be yes or no, but still Loki manages to get his meanings across with only a nod or a shake of the head. “But surely it’s better to know he could still be alive. Surely that’s better than believing he’s dead.”

Loki thinks on his father’s words. At least this time it means the chiming in his mind is no longer _dead_. But that never really bothered him as much as the _gone._ Because there it is again, ringing round and round in his head until it feels like it will crack, like it will hit resonant frequency and his skull will shatter. _Thor’s gone, Thor’s gone, Thor’s gone..._


	7. Chapter 7

_Thor stares at his mother, speechless, a deluge of emotion overwhelming him completely. She glides up from her seat and moves towards him, pulling him into an awkward hug which he can only return with a brief pat on the back. He doesn’t entirely know what to feel._

_“Hello, Thor,” she says with a smile, oozing warmth and love like honey, like syrup, and Thor’s never liked sickly things. It puts him on his guard straight away._

_“Hello, Frigga,” he responds, using her first name to express the coldness he feels towards her. His mother has never liked her children calling her by her first name, or her husband for that matter. As far as Thor can remember in fact, Frigga has never really liked anything Odin did, or he or Loki. It makes Thor wonder why she kidnapped him in the first place._

_“I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here,” she says smoothly, moving back over to sit on the chair and gesturing to the empty one beside it for Thor to sit down. He takes the seat, sitting stiffly with his eyes on his mother as she crosses her legs and gives him another brilliant smile. He thinks the love is genuine, but he can’t be sure. How can someone who loves him destroy his family twice over?_

_“It’s because I missed you.” Thor’s mouth falls open. “Because I missed you, and I wanted to see you, and provide for you, like a good mother should.”_

_Thor can think of a million comebacks to that, but manages to swallow them all, closing his eyes as he does so, and raising an eyebrow to encourage her to continue._

_“That’s why I made sure you kept up your studies, and I’ve entered you in your GCSEs as well. I hope everything you’ve been given is all right for you.”_

_Thor feels his hands start to shake in fury at what she’s saying. That she could dare claim to be a good mother after taking him away from his family. That she could even consider what she’d given him in terms of accommodation ‘all right’, when he’d been perfectly happy at home._

_“Where am I?” he asks, keeping his voice controlled as best he can, and not doing a very good job of it._

_“You’re home,” she responds, offering him a sandwich from the plate on the coffee table beside her. “I know the move was a little bit dramatic, but it’ll be all right once you’ve settled in.”_

_Thor looks horrified, and he can’t quite understand how this woman can claim to be his mother after all she’s done. “This is not my home. This is_ not _my home.”_

_He rises out his chair and makes for the doorway, but it’s locked. The window is open a crack, so he heads towards that and pushes the pane upwards, but it’s no use. It won’t budge, and now Frigga has started to walk over to where Thor is, curling cool fingers around his wrist and pulling him back towards the chair with surprising strength._

_“Listen, Thor, I know this is sudden, and I know you’re upset, but you have to believe me. I’m your mother, I want what’s best for you. I want you to be safe and happy, and do well in your exams, so I’ve brought you to live with me so I can look after you.” Her expression grows more desperate by the minute, but Thor can’t feel any remorse, not after what she’s done to him, to all of them._

_“If you want me to be happy, let me go.”_

_She lifts up her head, eyes wide with surprise. “I can’t. I’m your mother, I can’t let you go.”_

_Thor bites back another comeback, not sure how much longer he’ll be able to restrain himself._ It was easy enough the first time, _he thinks furiously._

_“Let me go.”_

_Frigga shakes her head, and pushes a button on something he’s only just noticed is sitting next to the sandwich tray - something like a baby monitor or walkie-talkie system that she’s using to communicate with the men she hired to kidnap Thor for her. Two of them barge into the room, grabbing his still-bound wrists and dragging him away into the corridor. Thor twists in their grip, catching them off guard, and seizes the opportunity to run in the opposite direction down the corridor. He sees daylight and hears outside noises - a car, and voices. It turns out he’s not being kept prisoner in some classical mansion, like in a bad mafia movie, but in a big house on an ordinary road. He bolts through the side door and onto the front lawn, stopping to take in his surroundings and squinting against the sunlight._

_*_

Loki and Odin are watching the news again, this time alone. The night following the report explaining that the body wasn’t Thor’s had been rough, though more for Odin than for Loki. Neither of them had got much sleep, but while Loki was used to feeling the stabbing pains of uncertainty, Odin was not. It had taken him a long time to silence the worries going round and round his head.

Since it’s a Friday, none of Loki’s friends can come over for the evening, but Fandral’s promised to visit when he can on Saturday to catch up on the news. They’re watching an earlier bulletin tonight, and it’s national news as opposed to the usual South Today. Because of this Odin isn’t expecting much, but the first words the reporter speaks are Thor’s name, and his head snaps round to focus on the screen.

Loki looks up at him in surprise: neither of them saw this coming. He doesn’t know what to think - is it a good or a bad thing that Thor has made national news? Does it even mean anything? Loki’s been numb for so long he can’t tell if whatever new breakthrough that has caused Thor to become such a big thing will actually affect him or not.

And then they see the footage.

It’s taken on a mobile phone, and there’s lots of background noise, the image distorting and pixelating as both the camera and the people being filmed move around. The clip is only thirty seconds long, but it’s enough for them to work out what’s going on. They can make out Thor from his stature, shorter than the other two men hurrying after him as he bursts out the side door of a large house in a quaint little suburb of some large city.

Loki watches, enraptured, taking in every detail of Thor’s movement and embedding the images into his mind so he’ll never forget the moment he knew his brother was really _alive_. He watches Thor stop, staring at the sun, and then turn to run from the two large men that explode out the door after him. They tackle him, and Loki stops breathing at that moment, eyes focused on the pixels of his brother as he’s pulled back towards the door, and then the footage ends as a policeman jumps out and runs towards the others.

The reporter turns away from the screen and smoothly begins to explain how the police had been in the area when they’d heard the struggle, one passer-by calling out to an officer when she witnessed the start of the incident herself. Police had managed to disable the attackers and release the victim, who was in mild shock but showed no signs of damage other than bruising. He’d been taken to the police station to be looked over, whilst the other men were arrested and taken to custody to be questioned.  

Odin finds himself weeping only because Loki looks up at him and swats the tears from where they’re dripping from his father’s chin. For the first time since Thor disappeared, his younger son is smiling. Really, really smiling.

“I think we need to make a trip to the police station.”

*

Loki is greeted warmly with a smile from DI Symmonds as he and his father arrive at the station at eight in the evening. They’d been too excited to think properly, frantically calling their friends to tell them the news. But of course Sif and Hogun and Brenda had already seen the article, and for a while there had been a clash of phone connections as everyone tried to talk to everyone else at once. In the end, offers to accompany them to the station are declined, because the last thing they want is to swamp Thor when he’s in shock.

Loki had insisted on bringing Thor’s favourite red hoodie and his bedding, in case he needed the comfort, and then they’d been in the car, driving off towards the station with the radio on top volume, Odin still with tears in his eyes.

Odin shakes her hand, thanking her over and over for what she’s done, words eventually failing him. Loki simply smiles, and the officer finds herself smiling in return. Even if it’s just one small life, it makes her endlessly happy to know that that brave, frightened teenager that had come to her around a month ago has finally had the pieces of his life put back together.

Odin is hesitant to approach the subject of seeing Thor, since he doesn’t doubt there will be complications. He knows Loki is expecting them to be able to walk in, collect him, and walk out again. But these things never happen. He’ll be sleeping, or too unwell to be moved that evening, or already be in a hospital, or there’ll be forms to sign, or...

“Do you want to see him?” Symmonds asks, and Loki’s face lights up even brighter, making the flickering fluorescent tubes on the ceiling above them look like candles next to a roaring fire. She takes that as a yes and opens the door at the back of the reception room to a narrow corridor. In the end room is a table and chairs with paper laid out and a row of pens beside it.

“You need to fill in some of these first,” and Odin couldn’t suppress a strained sigh. He hadn’t been wrong. Forms.

“And Thor isn’t feeling very well. You can move him, but he’ll need attention from a doctor first thing tomorrow. We’ve planned for someone to visit here in the morning in case you didn’t see the article and our telephone message wasn’t received, but if you want him to come home then that will be fine. Which would you rather?”

Odin looks at his son. His expression of delight has faded into one of doubt, and Odin can tell he’s at war within himself. To take Thor home now, or to let him get checked over so he’s really better.

“I...I think it would be better if we took him tomorrow,” Odin begins, and is surprised to see Loki nodding in agreement. “We’ll collect him as soon as possible.”

The inspector smiles. “All right. I’ll give you a call once he’s ready.” She lets Odin fill in the forms, watched by his curious son, and rubs her hands together. They’ve nearly sorted it.

Odin returns the forms to her and she takes them gently, opening the door and saying goodbye as they leave the station. Loki falls asleep briefly in the car whilst surrounded by Thor’s duvet and pillows.

It was less than two hours’ round trip, and once they’re home Odin makes celebratory hot chocolate. Sif calls again and they tell her everything, the sounds of electronic laughter and crying filling the room from the speakerphone. They hang up at midnight and Odin tells Loki they both ought to go to bed. Loki agrees, but neither of them manages so much as a wink of sleep.

*

It’s eleven in the morning when the call comes through. Thor’s been given the all clear, and he’s able to come home.

It’s like a dream as they hop in the car, duvet and all, and drive back down to the station. Loki can feel the sound growing fainter, the edges of his vision whitening just like in a movie, when it’s an emotional moment of both joy and tragedy, and everything fades out to make your mind go numb. He can almost hear the lamenting sound of a flute in his mind, completing the moment, except this is a happy thing, not a sad one.

The sound comes back in a rush as he races down the corridor after the detective, and the door bangs open, and he sees his brother smiling weakly at him from on a small bed attached to the wall, and the first word he’s spoken in a month tumbles from his lips...

“Thor.”


	8. Epilogue

“Happy birthday.”

Thor looks up to see Loki’s smiling face looking down at him, a tray of croissants and tea in his hands. He grunts and shuffles so he’s sitting up in bed, taking the tray and setting it on his lap. Beside the breakfast is a neat arrangement of envelopes in size order, with the biggest at the bottom.

“Dad and I got your present, but it’s downstairs because I wanted you to have it after breakfast,” Loki explains, sitting down on his side of the bed. It’s been three months since Thor arrived back at home, and whilst he refused therapy, his PTSD has resulted in some recurring nightmares that mean Loki has moved into his room. It’s an arrangement that neither of them mind, even if Thor has a tendency to kick. Since Loki still had trouble sleeping at first anyway, it turned out to be more beneficial than expected because they could comfort one another and leave Odin to catch up on precious rest.

Although it’s Friday, and Loki has started school again, Odin has booked him the day off to spend with his family. Thor’s recovery was rapid, but he’s still skittish, and he has difficulty settling down in places that aren’t his own home. Odin has recently begun paying for a tutor so he can stay at home. She’s very kind, but sometimes even the simplest of things can set off a memory which has Thor desperately crying for his father or brother, and there can be no progress that day.

Thor opens the first card with his finger, messing up the edge of the envelope in the process, and pulls out a card with a monkey baring a photoshopped grin and googly eyes. He laughs when he opens it and a £10 note falls out along with a cheery message from Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun.

“That’s nice of them,” Odin says as he picks up the note and puts it on the bedside table. Thor nods and takes the next card, obviously from Sif because of all the little doodles. Hers says she’ll drop her present round on the weekend, and also invites him and Loki to come to the cinema to celebrate, if he’s up to it. Thor decides he’ll think about it.

There are some cards from relatives, aunts and uncles, even one from his tutor, which he thinks is sweet. Then Loki’s is at the bottom. It’s twice the size of an ordinary card, with the envelope beautifully decorated in one of Loki’s trademark paisley patterns. The card is a huge ‘16 TODAY’ number along with some silly cartoons, and Thor rolls his eyes. He knows Loki only got one of those cards to irritate him. It worked.

He lifts an arm, making it look like he’s going to give his brother a ‘thank you’ hug but once Loki is close enough, Thor clobbers his head gently, poking out his tongue. Odin chuckles and drags them both into a hug anyway, ruffling Loki’s hair in the process. Both brothers give each other death glares from around their father’s arms.

Once the first few days were over, and Thor was suitably out of shock, Loki asked him about what happened. He wasn’t interested in the details; more important for him was what Frigga had said and done. He was trying to work out in his head why she had done it. Thor hadn’t been able to say much, not wanting to bring memories back, but he’d done enough to get Loki’s brain going. He’d visited the station, where they were moving to put the kidnappers on trial, and asked for details of his mother’s address. It was his aim to visit her after Thor’s birthday, to learn more of what happened.

Thor finishes his croissants and stretches. “Should I be suspicious of what you got me, going by the card?” he asks Loki with a glance from the corner of his eye. His brother smiles innocently and scampers away down the stairs.

Odin laughs. “I think you’ll love it.”

*

Sometimes it bothers Thor how hard it is, adjusting back. He doesn’t understand why the smallest thing can set him off into a fit of terror no-one can get him out of, that he just has to endure. He thinks about people in films who get kidnapped, or traumatised, that develop PTSD and all of them seem to have gone through worse horrors than him. He knows he was thrown around a bit, and completely wrenched from his family life without a chance to contact them or see the outside world for nigh on a month. But he was never really hurt.

He can sit for hours brooding on it, until Loki comes in and asks what’s wrong, and he has to look up and think of a reason, because he can’t say ‘nothing’. Loki will know ‘nothing’ is a lie.

He’s tried to talk to his father about it.

“Why is it so hard? Why is it that I only have to look at a physics book to get set off? Why do I get so terrified when, looking back, it really wasn’t that traumatising?”

“Thor, no-one expects things to just go back to normal. You’re going to be upset for a while, because of the nature of what happened. It’s not something to worry about.”

It’s the answer Thor knows he will get, but still doesn’t want to hear. “But I want to know _why_ I’m so upset,” he replies, turning out the room. It’s more for peace of mind than anything. He’s angry at himself for letting everybody down.

“Thor?” Loki whispers when he hears his brother go up the stairs. His only reply is a redundant grunt, and Loki decides to leave it. Sometimes it’s better to leave Thor alone.

*

In the living room, Loki is clutching a suspicious package to his chest and waiting for Thor to come downstairs after dressing. He stayed up most of the night working on it, hoping this would be a time Thor had no nightmares. As luck would have it, his brother stayed silent all night. The fruits of his labours sit in his arms, wrapped in purple and gold wrapping paper and over-decorated with ribbons, bows and plastic flowers. Loki knows the over-the-top presentation will only make Thor more suspicious of what he’s being given, which is exactly what Loki wants. That way, Thor’s face when he opens it...

The other two members of the household finally sweep in, Odin with a casual smile and Thor with a wary glance at the object in Loki’s hold.

“If you’ve got me chocolates,” he warns, cocking an eyebrow as the present is handed to him and Loki plonks down on his right. Thor’s never liked sickly things, but even less so now he’s home. They just remind him more and more of his mother.

Odin moves to Thor’s left and watches as he slowly unties every bow, piling the ribbon on the floor and flicking his eyes over to Loki every now and then as he tries to gauge what is going on. After five minutes there is a pile of multi-coloured fabric on the floor and the gift in his hands is considerably smaller. He begins to undo the paper, carefully pulling off the Sellotape and sticking each piece to the ends of Loki’s hair as punishment for the ridiculousness of the wrapping. Loki makes a face and pulls the pieces off, making them into a sticky ball ready to throw at somebody.

Once Thor’s patience fizzles out, he pulls off the paper and deposits it on the floor, expecting a box of sweets or chocolates, and completely surprised by what he sees. It’s a scrapbook, handmade and bulging with photos. The cover is once again covered in those unique designs of Loki’s. He opens to the first page and sees a photo of the three of them at Marwell. Frigga’s been removed because Loki highly doubted Thor would want to look at her again, but it’s still a nice photo. On the inside of the cover is written, ‘ _Happy sixteenth birthday, Thor_ _J’_ in Loki’s handwriting, with another ‘ _Happy birthday’_ written from Odin. Thor’s eyes tear up and he grabs Loki and pulls him into a hug, then flops them both onto Odin where he can tickle them, and suddenly they’re all in a heap on the floor, giggling and gasping for air. Loki pulls a camera out and shouts, “Smile!”, then dashes off to the small office they created in the back half of the lair to print it off.

He returns a few minutes later with a Pritt Stick and takes the book from Thor’s hands. “One last photo to stick in,” he explains, turning to the back page with a convenient gap and pasting in the photo. Then he gives it back for Thor to continue looking through. There are photos of him with his friends at school trips and the park, photos Thor didn’t even know existed, but that bring back fond memories all the same. He doesn’t know how to say thank you.

 “I knew you’d like it,” Odin says, squeezing Thor’s shoulder from where they are in a heap on the floor, and Thor nods in agreement. It’s been the best birthday he’s had.

“How long did this take?”

Loki shrugs. “About a month. I called it a school project and got out of some homework, but I think they’d have let me off anyway, because, you know...”

Thor nods. He knows Odin told the school about what happened, and he knows Loki gets allowances made for days off and lack of homework. Thor just sometimes wishes his brother didn’t abuse the privileges _quite_ so much.

“It’s the best thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he breathes, hugging Loki again and kissing his cheek. “Thank you, Loki.”

*

The rest of the day, they mess about at home, watching films and eating Pringles. Once school is over, Sif calls to confirm when she can come over. They go to bed late and sleep in ‘til eleven in the morning, woken up by the doorbell going. Thankfully, it’s followed by the rustle and steady thump of their father going down the stairs to answer it. Thor turns to face Loki, glad he doesn’t have to get up just yet.

“So, do you think you’ll be OK going to the cinema with us today?” Loki asks, squeezing Thor’s hand under the duvet. Thor stills for a moment, thinking. It would be great to go out with all his friends on his birthday, and Loki would be there with him just in case. But on the other hand, what if he has an attack? He might start screaming in the cinema, and they wouldn’t be able to get him out with ease.

Thor bites his lip. “What film would we see?” He tucks a stray piece of hair behind Loki’s ear.

“I’ve heard Iron Man 3 is pretty good.” Loki looks hopeful. He loves action movies.

Thor chuckles and stretches one arm. “I’ll think about it.”

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally finished, at last! I hope everyone liked it as much as I did, even if I messed around with some concepts and reversed a few roles. (Plus my obsession with Artist Thor was broken because I wanted Loki to be creative and make a scrapbook, even though artistic Thor is like my love <3) My next project will be more canon since I owe AmunetMana a(nother) present .o. Plus I'm out of plots for my beloved AU. Until next time!


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